Man to Ape Leader to Leader
by 332249
Summary: The Simian Flu wiped out most of the world's population. Of course, the Winchesters always were hard to kill. Set after "War for the Planet of the Apes" and Supernatural AU after Season 8 (no Trials).
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

In the end, it wasn't the Croatoan virus. The microscopic bug that rendered the world to this _almost_ apocalyptic nightmare? Yeah, it wasn't the Croatoan virus. It wasn't demons trying to bring hell on earth for the glory of their fallen-father, Lucifer. It wasn't the angels trying to bring about a perfect world without their Father's flawed human creation. It wasn't even the Leviathan letting loose a chemical cocktail to hold dominion over their favorite snack: humanity.

There was no great evil that anyone could point to and say: This. This horrible enemy of all that was good and right did this to us.

In the end, after all the brothers Winchester and Team Free Will had done to protect their world against supernatural forces, it was actually humans who ultimately did the most to destroy humanity. And wasn't that an ironic kick in the pants for them? This plague they had survived was entirely man-made; then spread far and wide by man's panic and stupidity.

Oh, people liked to blame the monkeys; as though the lab animals had any choice in the matter concerning their experimentation. But the truth of the matter was only people were to blame for humanity's near destruction.

 _Near_ destruction.

Because humans were nothing if not adaptable and persistent.

Naturally, at the center of the rebuilding effort stood humanity's champions: Sam and Dean Winchester.

In the last decade plus, the admittedly aging Hunters spent less and less time hunting ans more and more time building. They built a bastion of safety in a world where technology had failed. Dean designed an infrastructure to keep drinkable water flowing and food on the many tables. Sam wrote a constitution that all survivors could and would support. Dean organized the masses into a healthy workforce and an efficient defense force. Sam provided an intermediary between individuals and families in order to keep the peace.

The Winchesters had heard of talking and intelligent apes, of course. The two of them kept a sharp ear out for urban legends in their former (and still occasional) line of work. Real or not, as long as those apes weren't dropping human bodies the brothers didn't care.

They had enough to deal with.

Like dwindling supplies and a growing community. Thanks to their unusual upbringing, Sam and Dean could build just about anything from scratch. Both men were the best doctors you could have that had never actually gone to medical school. They even knew how to process raw materials into things like antibiotics (yeah, the laboratory ones worked better but what they could make worked well enough for most things.)

Unfortunately, welcoming new survivors always strained resources. And no survivor willing to live and work in the community by the community rules was ever turned away. So it sometimes became necessary to salvage what they could from abandoned cities. So, every year during the slowest and most relaxed time of the year, the brothers packed their duffles and ranged out into the wilds that America had become.

Once, they had returned in a barely functioning semi tractor-trailer that was filled to the brim with toilet paper, to the delight and celebration of all those who welcomed them home.

Eventually, there would be nothing left to salvage. By then, though, the community would have become self-sufficient.

Ideally.

It was one of these walk-abouts when the Winchesters discovered one more urban legend that wasn't a legend at all...

 **A/N: Anyone interested in more?**


	2. Out For A Walk

**Chapter 1**

The Winchesters walked, long legs ate away at the miles despite the rugged terrain. They walked because highway maintenance had not a priority anywhere for a long time. Also because fossil fuels like gasoline served better purposes than making hard-to-maintain vehicles move. Because of both reasons, several pack animals trailed along behind the two brothers on a string.

"I miss the Impala," Dean announced miserably as they pulled up to a stop beside a stream. The mules took the opportunity to get some water.

"I know," Sam commiserated as he slapped a mosquito. Honestly, he missed working land-based motorized vehicles in general. Although he missed the Impala specifically the most. But he was getting mighty tired of hearing Dean say it. Over, and over again. Every trip.

The Impala, their home on wheels, had become their home on blocks. Dean had carefully put her into long term storage for the day when humanity could afford the extra resources to restore her once again to her former glory. It was one of the ways in which he held on to hope for the future. Some days Sam still found the older man sitting in the driver's seat, having needed a momentary respite from the responsibilities he had brought on himself.

Thankfully, Dean seemed to know he'd exhausted anything new to be said on the subject. Or maybe he was just tired, because he suggested that they go ahead and call it a day. "This is as good a spot as anywhere."

Sam agreed and settled the livestock.

As always, a Purgatory-practiced Dean slipped away, nearly silently into the woods to set small game snares. Most nights, he could catch something for dinner. As he made his way around, he also kept his eye on the ground for foraging edibles.

His quiet and his distraction is how the older Hunter came suddenly face to face with a very, very surprised ape.

The primate screeched to the skies in outrage at the human's intrusion.

For his part, Dean hit the deck. From the ground, crouched on all fours, he began to speak. "Easy, easy there, Magilla." His tone was as smooth as top shelf whiskey and his cadence relaxed. "Its okay, big fella. I didn't know you were there, and I didn't mean to startle you."

The ape seemed to settle a fraction, or at least, seemed less inclined to charge the human and beat him to death. It eyed Dean warily, waiting for him to do something stupid.

"Dean?!" Sam's voice called from the camp site, worried but not panicked.

The ape's head snapped up at the sound.

"Hey, hey, hey," Dean soothed hastily. "That's just my brother, Sammy. Me and him are passing through on our way home. Neither of us want to hurt you." As he talked, he slowed down his speech, forcing his voice and his body to relax. Adding his own stress to the situation would only upset the already territorial animal.

Simian focus shifted back to the man in front of it.

"Yeah, that's it," Dean continued his banter. "We don't want trouble. See, we actually found some medical supplies, stuff that's tricky to make on our own. So, if you don't mind, I'm gonna back away slowly and leave you alone. Okay?"

It might have worked. The ape seemed interested in him, but no longer aggressive. So it might have ended there of Sam Winchester hadn't chosen that moment to crash through the underbrush.

Another screech of alarm echoed across the forest canopy.

"Sam!" Dean snapped, waving frantically from his position on the ground. "Dammit, Sammy! Get down!"

Trusting his brother, the taller man folded himself to the ground.

"Stay down," Dean advised in his whiskey voice. "If you challenge or threaten him, he will attack. If we try to run, same deal. I don't want to shoot him. So stay down and stay quiet until he decides we are not going to hurt him."

"Since when are you a gorilla whisperer?" Sam demanded, but he too kept his tone soft and modulated.

"Dude, why didn't you and your geeky brain ever actually watch Discovery Channel as a kid?" Dean grumbled quietly.

Sam huffed a small laugh. "Right. I forgot there was one educational TV show you did watch."

"Yeah, well, aren't you glad I did?" Dean smirked at his brother.

In front of the humans, trees rustled. Several horses burst through the bushes. Both men's jaws fell open in shock when they saw the riders: Apes. Each one armed with a rifle. The original ape began to wave its hands about. One of the riders responded in kind, punctuating the motions with soft grunts.

"Sonnova bitch!" Dean swore softly. "Sammy, that's sign language. The freaking gorillas are _talking_ to each other!"

"What?!" Sam hissed.

The lead rider turned her attention to the encroaching humans. There was suspicion and mistrust clear in those eyes, but there was also calculation and dangerous hope. "You have... medicines?" she demanded, her voice rusty but decidedly feminine.

The men risked a glance at each other before Dean answered cautiously, "Some."

"Are you doctors?" she asked.

"No," Dean shook his head. But he studied his interrogator. Enough interviews with enough recalcitrant witnesses taught him to read body language as easy as speaking english. About half the group wanted to kill the humans now and be done with it. The other half was just tired. The leader of this little band was scared, not of Sam and Dean, but _for_ someone else. "Who's hurt?"

The apes all looked to their leader to see how she'd play it.

"Ceasar." She considered the men. "You fix him, we let you and your medicine go."

She didn't add the second half, though every sentient being there heard the threat she hadn't wasted energy on saying.

"We can try," Dean offered. His face said more than his words too: we can try, but not everything can be fixed; don't expect miracles.

"Try hard!" the biggest, angriest ape snarled.


	3. Waking Up

Caesar did not expect to wake up.

After taking that bolt through the rib cage during the battle and then traveling with his people so hard for so long in order to see them to safety, he honestly and truly expected his last words to Maurice on that hillside to be his last words on this earth.

"Apes are strong... with or without me" were good words to die on.

Caesar especially did not expect to wake up with the smooth skin of a human face hovering over him with worry in his eyes.

He didn't expect either, but he experienced both.

"Caesar? It is Caesar, right?" The human's voice was hard to focus on. His chest hurt, a deep ache. His thoughts felt slow and hard to put together. The ape leader fought to pull together his scattered wits. Being awake and around a human meant he _had_ to _think._

"Caesar, I need you to take it easy, alright? If you move too much you're going to pull your stitches."

Caesar blinked in confusion. "Sti-tches?" he asked. Or he tried to. His words came out as even more of a croak than usual.

Steady hands eased his head up and held a cup of cool water to his lips. Only then did he realize how dry his mouth was. The drink had the double effect of easing his throat and clearing some of the cobwebs from his mind. The clarity afforded him the chance to study the strange human beside his sickbed: big, healthy, grizzled. But it was the eyes that caught his attention the most. Those green eyes reminded him of Will. Not the color, but the mischief and compassion mixed deep within them.

A good man, if Caesar was any judge.

"Who are you?"

"My name's Dean Winchester. Lake, uh, _asked_ me and my brother to take a look at you."

Lake? That was good. Lake was a capable ape. But the way he said 'asked' was concerning. A sudden thought hit him like a bag of bricks. "Lake... kidnapped you?" Crap, crap, crap! Kidnapped humans meant angry humans looking for their friends. Angry humans always lead to dead apes, justified or not.

"Kinda," Dean scratched his head, searching for the words. "I think we decided to call our medical services the toll for passing through your territory." Then Dean looked straight into Caesar's eye: green to green and leader to leader. "Assuming she actually intended to cut us loose after. Jury's still out on that one."

Those green human eyes softened. "But here I am dumping all this crap on you in the first five minutes after you woke up. Sorry, man. That's a dick move."

Apologies? From a human to and ape?

Unable to process that miracle right now, Caesar looked down at himself. Tubes ran in and out of him attached to needles and a couple of newly-shaved bald patches now dotted his torso. "Stitches?" he prompted.

Dean nodded. "Blood loss, all kinds of infections, liquid on the lungs. I ain't gonna lie, it was touch and go for a while there, and you ain't entirely out of the woods yet. But you are on the mend."

"How long?" Caesar rasped.

Dean helped him sipped some more water. "We've been here a week. Don't know how long you were out before we got here."

A week. A week was a long time for this Dean's friends to start looking for him. Except for that one moment, this human didn't seem angry or resentful. Worried for his and his brother's well being, yes, but not hateful concerning Caesar and his apes.

"Where's your brother?"

"We're taking your sick watch in shifts. He's next door."

"Where's Lake?"

"Lake and the Orange dude are doing their leader thing, setting up camp and what not. I can get them, if you're ready," Dean told him. "But I wanted to make sure you were all the way awake this time. You were kinda in and out of it yesterday. Seemed to freak out Lake."

Was he ready? It had been... different, the thought of not having to be in charge, be in command, be strong anymore. The idea had been, almost... seductive.

Dean must have seen some of those thoughts as they passed over Caesar's features. "Or you can go back to sleep. Or I can hold off until you've had something to eat, at least."

Caesar's stomach growled loudly at the thought of food. Well it would, he hadn't eaten for at least a week and hadn't eaten well for the week before that.

Dean smiled. "Food it is!"

Despite the exceeding gentle handling, Caesar still grunted in pain as his abused body shifted. Grunted softly, he realized, because he wasn't ready; didn't want want his apes to know yet. Didn't have the energy to expend the effort of convincing everyone he was fine. When right now all he wanted was to be left alone.

As he ate what he could, he let the thoughts run rampant through his head about what kind of ape that made him. First, he has sunk low enough to kill other apes. Just like Koba. Now, he wanted to abandon all his responsibilities. Was that horrible of him?

Dean, and his damned Will-Eyes, saw far more of Caesar's thoughts than the ape was really comfortable with. "Its okay, you know," the human told him. Kindly. Gently.

He stared back questioningly.

"To need a break," Dean clarified. "To have doubts after you've been through the wringer. To be tired of it all." Softer, almost as though it wasn't actually meant for the ape's ears, he added, "To be just a little bit disappointed that you woke back up."

Caesar used the offered food to stall the unsettling conversation. Was he disappointed? Yes. Yes, he was. A little. A world without his wife, without his oldest son, without his vengeance burning hard and cold in his stomach... that was a daunting world to face. And yes, he was tired; more than simply wounded tired. He was bone-weary of ruling, of making the hard decisions with the weight of his people riding on them. And yes, he doubted his own abilities now more than ever after 'the wringer.'

Was it really okay to think, to feel like this?

"You know." Caesar stared hard at the human, willing him to hear all the words he didn't have the energy to say: You know... what it is to be a leader, to fight long and hard and loose and fight some more, to loose everything, to feel this tired and still find the strength to continue. How?! How do I continue. How did you?

Dean sighed. "Me and Sammy, we built a community of survivors. We're rebuilding, recovering, making a future. But there's no 'Idiot's Guide to Post-Apocalyptic Living.' We tried damn hard to make sure everyone stayed calm and focused by _not_ showing them how much we're making up on the fly."

Caesar nodded. He knew that struggle very well.

"Its exhausting," Dean blew out a breath. "After a few years, we found ourselves... resenting the very people we were supposed to be protecting."

Resentment? Is that the name for it when he simply could not stand the company of others anymore? "What did you do?" Caesar demanded. How did this man who knew the weight of leadership cope when that weight became so heavy?

"We're doing it," Dean told him. "We take trips, 'supply runs' we call them. But really that's just an excuse to take time away from the pressure. To ourselves, for ourselves. And you know what?"

Caesar cocked his head, a silent demand for more.

"It helped. We needed the break, needed the empty time to recharge the batteries. The rest actually gave us a clearer head for dealing with their crap... in ways we couldn't have thought of when we were buried under the stress." Dean huffed a small laugh. "Sometimes the answer should have been obvious, except I couldn't pull my head out of my ass long enough to see it."

Caesar snickered.

"Alright, alright, enough story time. You're beat all to hell and on the mend. Get some more sleep. Me and Sammy promise to behave for a little while longer."

"It doesn't bother you?" Caesar asked, even as he drooped. "That we are apes, not human?"

Dean laughed as he set the food down. "Most of my closest friends weren't human."  
Caesar fell back asleep despite his whirring mind.

If Dean's friends weren't human, and weren't ape... What else was there?


	4. New Skills

Sam decided he liked Maurice.

The old orangutan had taken it upon himself to act as a buffer between the Winchesters and Lake in the last week. From the way the apes respected him, Sam knew that Maurice was one of the leaders here. He would probably one of the reasons that Sam and Dean would actually be allowed to leave. Assuming they were allowed to leave.

(Yeah, they could fight their way out if it came to that. But as the brothers had gotten older they had discovered that they preferred the non-violent resolution whenever possible.)

It had not escaped the younger Hunter's notice that these magnificent creatures bounced between skittish and hostile with the humans in their midst. It also hadn't escaped his notice that although Caesar was the worst off, most of the ape community suffered from some amount of exhaustion and malnourishment. Many of them were nursing lesser bullet wounds and second degree burns. Clearly, humans somewhere had not been kind to them. Equally clearly, they had been lucky to escape the encounter.

All around him, apes muttered about his presence in sign language.

Stanford sign language classes had been two lifetimes ago. Eileen Leahy, however, wasn't so long ago. Like most women in his life, the friendship hadn't lasted long; but it was long enough to brush off old skills. He never imagined he would do it again in quite these circumstances.

Clumsy from disuse, Sam's hands asked Maurice if any other apes needed looking after as well. For a moment, Sam was sure his offer would be utterly rejected as Maurice stared at him. But only for a moment before the orangutan nodded and lumbered off.

Slowly, apes made their way over. Within a day, Sam had set up a walk-in clinic using whatever supplies he had off of their supply run. And the usual Winchester first aid kit, which meant a small surgical theater. The supplies themselves were fairly basic and nothing the people back home needed all that much. The ape's goodwill was well worth the trade-off.

Most of his patients, nearly all of them in fact, remained wary even as they came to him for help. Some stayed aggressive and barely short of hostile, as though they needed to prove to themselves that they were not afraid. Sam understood and tried not to take it personally. Others came and could not relax around him. Without Maurice's calm and solid presence, they would never have stayed long enough to be helped. Sam understood this as well and made sure to stay seated or otherwise NOT be as big as he really was.

Most remained wary.

A younger ape called Curious was all over the clinic. Sam wasn't sure if 'Curious' was his name or his prime feature. The little guy was forever poking his nose into everything and never stopped asking questions. More and more as the days passed, Sam found himself answering questions.

 _What is that? Why is that happening? Why are you putting alcohol on that? What are germs? How do you make alcohol? What are a-n-t-i-b-i-t-i-c-s? Why do they help? How do you make them? Can I help?_

Patiently and with a smile, Sam became a teacher, showing the ape more than the man would ever have guessed he would. Curious was astonishingly smart and took in everything, remembered it all, and easily applied what he learned.

It wasn't long before Sam declared one of the Winchester-level kits the sole property of Curious George, whose thick finger were shockingly gentle and dexterous with a suture.

"I wish some of our medics were as fast of learners as you," Sam told his new apprentice. Man, chimp, and orangutan were enjoying a light dinner at dusk. (Dean would be whining in his room about the lack of meat in the meal, but Sam was fine.)

Curious George grinned around his mouthful of apple.

{Good teacher.} Maurice signed.

"I wish I had a few medical textbooks with me," Sam sighed. "It looks like your people could use them a lot more than mine."

Maurice grunted in surprise.

{You'd do that?} Curious George asked, eyes wide in shock.

Sam blinked. "Why wouldn't I?"

{We are apes.} Maurice informed him, as though Sam never noticed. Or forgot this little fact of biology.

Sam laughed. "True, but if you had your own medic, then you wouldn't have to kidnap guys like us when you had problems. Dean and I spend a lot of time teaching people in our community how to be self-sufficient. Its pretty important these days."

Both chimp and orangutan had to look away in consternation at the word 'kidnap.'

Sam continued, ignoring the embarrassment. "Maybe when your boss is back on his feet, we can work out a trade deal or something. You know, raw materials for education.

{You'd come back?} Curious George hooted in excitement.

Sam ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, it might have to be me. Most of the guys back home would freak."

George's face fell. Sadly, slowly, he signed {Why do humans hate apes?}

Sam felt like he'd been kicked in the gut. How do you explain prejudice? Or hate?

Before the man could begin to fins the words, a loud primate screech of alarm sounded. Within seconds, half a dozen voices joined the first.

{Someone's hurt!} Maurice signed. {They'll bring him here.}

Sam nodded. "George, clean and clear the exam table. Maurice, can we get some more light in here? I'll prep the trauma pack."

Everyone got to work.


	5. Constant

Some things in the universe were constants: the earth revolved around the sun, the sun was hot, Apes hated fleas, Dean Winchester was there for his brother. Even after all these years as equal partners in Hunting and post-apocalyptic life, even after Dean Winchester passed the fiftieth birthday mark against all odds. Even after all that, Sam was first and foremost Dean's pain in the ass little brother. If and when Sam Winchester called out for his big brother, it never failed: Dean Winchester came running.

It didn't matter that there was a squad of angry, human-intelligent apes in between them (any one of which was physically stringer and more massive than any man). It hadn't mattered when all of heaven and hell tried to come between them, why would a few mundane apes?

"Dean!" Sam called, his tone conveying that there was no danger but someone was dying. Dean knew the tome from years of living and working side by side with the man.

Without second thought or hesitation, the older man abandoned his sleeping patient and took his medkit with him as he all but flew out the door. Dean shouldered his way through the throng of agitated primates. One gorilla went so far as to roar his displeasure at the human for the jostling. The retaliatory teeth-baring snarl from the Purgatory survivor rivaled any of the so-called 'animals' in its savagery.

The gorilla was between Dean and his brother. No one and nothing stayed like that.

At the center of the chaos, Maurice enforced an hurricane's eye of calm so that Sam and George could work. The patient, and craggy old chimp, lay on the exam table and leaking blood from far too many wounds. The poor bastard was a mess.

Sam had one hand buried in the patient's guts, holding a particularly bad bleeder tight, and the other deftly stitching it closed. George worked on the other side; his rubber gloves looked foreign against the fur. The young ape whipped a line of sutures steadily through muscle and skin, doing his part to save one of his own, despite the mounting terror on his face.

"Sam." _Dean Winchester, reporting for big brother duty._

"BP is ridiculously low," Sam growled at the bleeder, desperate to stay ahead of the loss.

"Transfusion?" Dean eyed the crowd, trying to pick out the calmer ones who might let him stick a needle in them.

"No time," Sam refuted. "Get a saline push started, then go autologous."

Dean looked to Maurice. "I'm getting the supplies from Caesar's room."

But the large, angry ape from before stood in his way. Precious seconds the patient didn't have ticked by in a staring contest. Onlookers fell silent to see what would happen.

"You're gonna wanna get out of my way," Dean told him, voice low and dangerous.

Then a new voice joined the fray. It too lacked volume, but the authority in it was unmistakable and unyielding. "Move," Caesar commanded. He looked solid and ready to enforce his will on the room (although Dean could see minute tremors betraying how weak he truly was).

Immediately the large ape folded, showing all due deference to his leader.

Dean wasted no time gathering his gear. He came back into the clinic and stood toe to toe with his would-be opponent. "You want to save that guy's life, or do you want to fight some more?"

The ape glanced at Caesar for help, but none was forth coming. "Save him," he grunted finally.

"Great. You're helping." Dean shoved a piece of equipment in the hairy hands. "Crank the generator, I need juice to run the centrifuge."

The ape looked at the contraption in consternation.

"Don't give me that crap," Dean snarled. "Turn the crank and don't stop until I tell you."

The ape looked to Caesar again, who nodded.

Dean got to work. Moving around Sam and George, he collected the blood flowing on and over the exam table that once belonged inside the patient. Almost two pint of whole blood went into the centrifuge, where the high speed spinning separated the still-usable red blood cells, the plasma, and the various impurities from the contaminated surfaces. (Spinning made possible by the power from the ape-cranked generator). The patient's own oxygen-carrying red-blood cells were then mixed into a saline IV to be fed back into his system.

Even the untrained spectators could see his color improve.

"Sam?"

"He's stable," Sam reported. "Just have to clean and close."

"Need a hand?"

Sam jerked his head at his simian assistant. "George has it under control."

Curious George beamed with pride.

Dean looked at his own 'assistant' still holding the generator. A short, sharp nod of approval was all the thanks the big gorilla would get, but it was enough. Apes rarely needed words to make themselves understood. The big ape nodded back seriously; he may not like humans, but this one was worthy of some respect nontheless.

Then Dean glanced around at his audience. Firmly, like he had every right to issue orders to the assemblage, he called: "Okay, Show's Over! Nothing else to see here! Move, move, move! Let the furball rest!" Apes scattered before him.

Only four stayed. George, who was busy. Lake and Maurice, who stared at Caesar.

And Caesar himself, who realized that life would never be easy for him. That was his constant since he left home with Will.

But who didn't mind.

"What hurt my ape?" he demanded.

As simple as that, life as they knew it returned to the ape community. Yet, at the same time, life as they knew it would change forever. The apes just didn't know it yet.


	6. New Ears, Same Story

Humans would have wasted words exclaiming over their newly risen leader: You're okay! Glad to see you up and about! We were so worried! The more concerned and practical among them would add: Should you really be up? Are you sure you're ready to be dealing with this? You were flat on your back yesterday. Humanity loved the spoken language.

The apes around Caesar said all that through the use of body language alone.

Caesar himself stood tall, unwilling to cede his authority to such trifles as ill health now that he had recovered his desire to rule for the betterment of his people.

Lake stood warily, worried over her leader's health, but too shaky in her own powers of command authority to push him. She would follow his lead as she always had, but now there were questions in her eyes and resolve in every line of posture. She would help whenever and however her leader needed, but behind that there was newly forged steel that said she would challenge his claims that everything was right with him. These apes were now Lake's responsibility as surely as they were Caesar's.

Maurice reclined, relaxed, as though he never expected his old friend to do anything else but get better and assume his role here. Caesar would do whatever the hell Caesar would do, the orangutan knew. The chimp could be nudged, prodded, and occasionally swayed; but never driven. The thing was, Caesar knew that Maurice would do whatever the hell Maurice would do, as well. Nova was proof of that. If Caesar needed to be beaned over the head so he could recuperate longer, Maurice would.

Really, it was predictable that one of the two humans would be the first to use their words. Though none of the apes predicted what those words would be.

Dean took in the simian stand off and growled to himself. Then he dragged over the cushions he and Sam used for chairs. "Sit," he directed Caesar curtly.

Caesar puffed his chest up in outrage. "Not. A. Dog!"

Human green eyes flashed in annoyance. "Sit your ape-ass down before you fall down. If you pull out my stitches because you were too stubborn-stupid to avoid passing out again, I'm gonna get pissed."

Lake's mouth fell open in shock.

Maurice snickered.

"Right, because you're any better when you're hurt," Sam grumbled softly.

"No comments from the peanut gallery, Sammy!"

Logic gave way to pride and Caesar gingerly lowered himself so that his head wouldn't swim. "What hurt my ape?" he asked again, calmly.

Lake began to sign, with Sam translating for Dean's benefit. {No one saw it very well. Lysander says a mutant human with claws. Rock says the shadows attacked them, but vanished when he swung the torch at them.}

"Wendigo?" Sam directed his query at his brother.

"Probably," Dean agreed. "Just surprised it went for ape meat. Those things usually like to snack on people."

"Yeah, but there aren't that many people left to eat," Sam observed.

Sad, but true. The Hunters hadn't been needed as Hunters all that much lately. All over the world, vampires and werewolves had been starved almost to extinction (Garth's 'vegan' pack being the exception.) What few humans that had survived the plague and then the collapse of civilization were remarkably aggressive concerning their health. Even men and woman completely ignorant of the fact that it was a rusalka gnawing on them, knew how to swing a machete from surviving the Supply Wars.

Old ghosts were tied to the abandoned cities, quietly loosing energy and slipping into the veil as the building and cities crumbled around them. Sam and Dean continued to save people. Just not from the supernatural or monsters as much anymore.

The apes didn't know that though.

"What is 'Wendigo'?" Caesar asked.

For all the chattiness of humans, the brothers looked to each other silently. The apes could see the wordless conversation made of eye contact and facial tics.

"Its a... well, 'mutant human' isn't too far off." Dean began slowly. "Throughout history, you hear about examples of a human on the verge of starvation will turn to cannibalism to survive. Then something happens... a curse, I guess. They turn into this thing. A wendigo."

Sam took up the narrative. "They become impossibly fast. And very, very hungry. They can camouflage their skin like a chameleon and mimic other people's voices to lure loved ones away from safety."

"Damn near perfect hunters," Dean agreed. "We've seen it before."

{Is it a virus?} Maurice asked, trying wrap his head around the concept. {Another mutation of the Simian flu?}

Caesar wondered the same thing. They'd seen the virus turn a bright human girl into a low-functioning mute. (Maurice had kept the girl firmly out of sight of the brothers for everyone's protection, not only because she was a carrier.) It wouldn't surprise the apes to hear that the folley of humanity had mutated even more dramatically.

Sam shook his head in negation of the thought. "These things existed long before the Outbreak. We killed one back in 2008."

"And you can't think of these things as science. They aren't," Dean added. They're supernatural. Monsters. The cursed embodiment of hunger."

Lake scoffed. {Supernatural? Magic? No such thing.}

Dean grumbled, "New species, same old song and dance." Louder, he continued. "Yes, magic. Monsters. Ghosts and ghouls and the boogieman. Its all real. We know because we used to Hunt it all."

Magic and Monsters. Caesar had been raised by scientists. When Alzheimer's reared it ugly head, Will had not tuned to the church for a miracle. He took himself to the lab. There was little room in his family's household for superstition or flights of fancy. The ape himself had never given any credence to human fairy tails past the bedtime story books of his youth.

Still, this man believed. You could see the strength and depth of his belief.

 _Most of my closest friends weren't human._ Dean's voice echoed quietly in Caesar's memory. He had wondered what else there could be. Was this the answer?

"Pretend I believe you," Caesar told them. "What do we do?"

"Dean and I can ward your camp using Anazazi sigils. Your people will be safe inside."

"If it is a wendigo, fire is the only thing that can kill it," Dean told them. "I can walk you through a few traps that have worked for us in the past."

{Why?} Lake demanded suddenly.

"Why what?" Sam asked, confused.

"Why, you, care, about, apes?" Lake demanded again, her command of english was labored but clear enough.

"Apes are people, too." Sam told her. His eyes seemed to get bigger, his face the picture of earnestness.

"Because I hate the damn things," Dean added, nonchalantly but honestly.

 _That_ everyone understood.


	7. Logic versus instinct

It made no sense at all. None.

There was no logical reason why paint and scratches in the wood should stop a predator from hunting in their home. Therefore, there was no logical reason why Caesar should let the two humans walk the entire perimeter of his new home drawing and carving random little pictographs as they went. Neither man could explain _why_ the magic words would work, merely that they _would_ work.

But perhaps most baffling of all, was they fact that Caesar allowed this nonsense. Why? He couldn't even answer the question for himself. Or maybe he could. Caesar couldn't shake his belief in Sam and Dean themselves. As capable leaders. As good men. As people that could be trusted.

Because he did trust them, on the strength of instinct alone.

He had nothing specific to point to and say, 'This. This is why.' Except maybe a small speech, thrown at him minutes after he had woken up. The one about leadership and exhaustion and resentment and recuperation. About how Caesar wasn't alone in these things. There was a kind of recognized kinship there, leader to leader, that he would never find among his own kind.

Maybe it was foolish, trusting a human again. But Caesar could not pull back now. Besides, it wasn't like a little paint and a few scratches would hurt anyone.

The humans in question completed the circuit. Despite the darkness of the late hour, Caesar could see satisfaction on their faces and the subtle relaxation in their shoulders. They really did believe in all this. Dean even clapped Kerchak on the shoulder to celebrate a job well done. Kerchak, the angry ape from the show-down, had agreed to escort the men and was now gesturing wildly over some new (if less angry) discussion. Probably the pointlessness of the exercise.

Later, Caesar would have to slow down the sequence of events in his mind to truly process everything that happened in such a short span of time. Not because everything happened so fast, he had great reaction times after a life of combat. Rather because his scientific and down-to-earth mind did not want to accept what his eyes told him.

Even as he watched, a black form grew from a formless shadow into a solid beast, vaguely humanoid, but sporting claws. Kerchak, still gesturing wide to encompass the campgrounds, could not know there was a monster coalesce silently behind him.

But the Winchesters did.

Dean flung himself forward and somehow managed to tackle the bigger, heavier ape to the ground. Meanwhile, Sam lunged for the torches. He swung the left like a baseball bat to force the beast back from Dean and Kerchak. He jabbed the right forward in a neat fencer's extension to cause the monster to shriek before exploding into whisps.

"Everybody, FREEZE!" Dean bellowed, his deep voice echoed throughout the camp.

Instantly and instinctively, every ape stilled at the sound. For a few heartbeats, the world stayed frozen. In those few moments Caesar could have sworn that he heard the very shadows breath... scenting the air like a predator who had lost sight of its prey.

Anger swelled to block out Caesar's fear. His apes were not prey.

"Dean?" Sam stood poised on the balls of his feet with the torches. Ready to move again.

"I haven't seen these things since Purgatory," Dean answered softly. "They track movement, don't move and they can't find you. Like the old Jurassic Park movie T-Rex."

"Fire kills them?" Sam needed to be sure.

"Light," Dean corrected. "Any kind of light. They must have been really hungry to come so close to the fires and torches."

"Great," Sam huffed.

A wind gust shifted the tree branches. Caesar watched in horror as their shadows took a fraction of a second longer to move. Careful to move his jaw as little as possible, he needed to know "Why now?"

"Weak moon, partly cloudy night," Dean speculated. "In a couple days, when there's no moon at all... ding, ding, chow time."

"No!" Caesar barked, furious at the thought.

His father's rage finally broke what little self-control little Cornelius had. The boy-ape screeched in distress and tried to race across the camp to Caesar's protective side.

NO! Caesar's mind screamed. He watched, helpless, as the shadows all around them spat out their nightmares. The ape leader was too far away to save his own son.

Again.

But the Winchesters weren't.

Once again Dean flung himself forward, scooping the child into his arms. Razor sharp claws meant for the scared little boy sliced through the human's tough leather jacket and the tender skin beneath. A hiss of pain through the teeth was all the movement Dean would allow himself while he pressed Cornelius tightly to his stomach.

Without movement to follow, the shadows became merely shadows.

"Dean?!" Sam didn't dare run to his brother's side.

"Flesh wound," Dean reported dismissively. "Hey, its okay, little guy." Dean's voice crooned low and gentle to the child in his arms. "You're okay. Everything will be fine. I just need to to hold as still as you can while us big, bad humans go kill the big, bad monsters, okay?" As Dean talked, Cornelius began to relax.

That's when it really hit Caesar: Dean could not know that Cornelius was Caesar's son. Dean risked and received injury to save an ape. Not because of who the ape was. Not because he needed to be on the apes' good side. Not to curry favor with his captors. But because Dean Winchester saw a scared child, irregardless of its species.

It was then that Caesar knew. If they survived the night, he would not worry about the threat the Winchesters might have represented.

"Not to interrupted the Hallmark moment, Dean," Sam broke in. "But _how_ do the 'big, bad humans go kill the big, bad monsters?"

Dean surveyed the campgrounds. And then flashed a grin at his brother. "I have an idea."


	8. A Good Idea?

_"_ _I have an idea."_

Sam closed his eyes and wished that he still believed angels could do things like grant him patience to deal with his brother when Dean was in this kind of mood. "Am I going to like this idea?"

Dean snickered. "Sammy, you always love my ideas!"

"No. No, I never like your ideas." Sam might have been the one on the fast track to law school, but Dean could weasel-word with the best of demons when he wanted to, so Sam had discovered he needed to phrase himself very carefully. "Is your idea relatively safe for everyone involved and does it have any kind of safety net built in? Is this idea going to take into account the fact that you are injured?"

"Okay, one, its just a scratch; I have saved the day with way worse slowing me down. Two, there is no safest option when we are already surrounded. And three," Dean flashed his most insouciant grin, "...you are my safety-net, Sam."

"So I'm going to hate this idea," Sam answered dryly.

"Actually, its not one of my worst." Dean turned his attention away from his brother. "Yo, Caesar! I've got a plan, but we'll need some help."

Sam could see the ape's gaze land on the uninjured chimp-let and the blood still seeping from Dean's arm. "Its yours," Caesar decreed.

"Someone with balls of steel needs to walk Sam's gun over to him. They have got to move slow and easy or they'll set these things off. Like this." To show what he meant by 'slow and easy' Dean peeled Cornelius off of his stomach. It took him nearly five minutes to pass the boy off to Kerchak, but in those minutes none of the creatures stirred.

Before the maneuver was complete, Lake hooted softly to volunteer. She crept her way to the supplies that she had taken away from the humans.

"We'll need someone else to chuck our drum of diesel fuel to the middle of that clearing when Sam yells 'Now'. Someone with a strong arm." Dean continued.

Maurice, one of the bigger apes in the community, chuffed and began to move every bit as slow and cautious as Dean and Lake.

Right about the time his brother said the phrase 'diesel fuel' Sam knew what the plan was without having to be told anything else. Dean always was a firebug. "How did you handle these things in Purgatory?" Sam asked. Without resources like flammable liquids.

"Benny took watch while I took a nap," Dean answered easily. "The vampire didn't need to sleep. And nothing and nobody was moving around through these things to come eat me. I sleep for a full six hours until sunrise ran them off. Best rest I had the whole year."

Sam shook his head. Only Dean could sleep through something like this. In a way it was a shame that the rest of the apes couldn't follow the canny old Hunter's example. All told, it took over an hour for Lake and Maurice to get into position. Over an hour that everyone else had to hold perfectly still as shadowy monsters lurked all around them. That was a lot to ask of an experienced Hunter never mind what the stress of waiting was doing to the uninitiated apes.

One by one, Caesar called out to his people; each one by name and talked them through the worst of it. Reminding them that their leader was not far, that there was a plan, that it would all be over soon seemed to settle most of them. Sam could only marvel at the amount of trust they all had in their leader that his reassurances alone were enough to calm and sooth. It spoke very highly of the ape's leadership for these people. Caesar talked until his throat was sore and his voice was cracked, but he talked them through it.

Dean started to breath in deep, fast and heavy, to hyper-oxygenate his system for the burst of energy he knew he would need. With his last deep breath, he let loose a bellow to shatter the stillness of the night: "Alright, Chow-Time, you freaky bastards! You want a juicy piece of the other white meat? Come and get it!"

The older man took off like a shot. He jinked and swerved his way all over the campsite. There wouldn't be a single Shadow _not_ after him, now. Dozens of them dogged his steps, chasing the only prey they could sense. He jumped and rolled and lead them all exactly where he wanted them to go.

Sam wanted to hold his breath in fear. One misstep, one stagger or falter, and Dean would be meat. But holding his breath would affect his own performance in this plan. So he forced himself to breath steady, to stay relaxed and ready with the gun steady in his hands.

"Come on! I taste good!" Dean jeered.

That was the cue.

Maurice hooted that he'd heard the 'go' signal.

Dean broke into a flat out sprint and raced with every bit of speed he could muster across the flat ground into the clearing It was barely fast enough. In a normal race, these things would have easily run him to ground.

But this wasn't a race. This was a trap.

"NOW!" Sam barked.

Maurice launched the drum with a loud grunt of effort.

Dean threw himself forward into a protective roll.

Sam's gun spat bullets.

The drum exploded in a fireball that lit every inch of the clearing for only a fraction of a second, but it was enough. There was nowhere for the Shadows to hide. Every last one of them shrieked in surprise and agony before they exploded into insubstantial whisps. The tornado siren of death wails hurt the apes' sensitive ears and all of them flinched and clapped their hands to their heads to block out the noise. But that was okay. There was nothing left to hurt them.

Dean bounced and rolled a few more feet, buffeted by the explosion's concussive force, until the hunter uncurled to flop flat on the ground. He lay worryingly still for a moment.

"Dean?!" Sam and Caesar called, almost at the same time.

One hand lifted to give them the okay sign before dropping back to the ground.

Sam knew his brother had to be winded and his head had to be ringing. But he also knew that the man would be fine, given a little time and rest. And maybe a few stitches.

Caesar knew that everyone would be fine... thanks to the Winchesters.


	9. Epilogue

**EPILOGUE**

The Winchesters stayed for a few more days after the explosion. Sam wanted to give the neat lines of stitches in Dean's shoulder a chance to settle a bit before they hit the road. Dean wanted to be sure his patient -Caesar- didn't overwork himself and rip _his_ stitches. Sam let Dean think their period of recuperation for Caesar's sake. None of the apes took sides in that argument.

Caesar wanted to know everything the humans could teach him about the monsters he never used to believe in. He was now the proud owner of a silver knife and an iron machete, courtesy of the Winchesters. His daylight hours of healing were filled with Dean's voice, lecturing about various monster and the means to defend the apes from them. The ape hoped he never saw another supernatural creature again, and Dean assured him that most people rarely saw more than one in their lifetime, but he still wanted to be ready.

Sam spent much of his remaining time with Curious George to further the younger ape's medical skills. At the very least 'combat medicine' would not be a problem. When the stitches were ready to come out of the ape patients, George would be ready to handle it. Between the two of them and Maurice, the apes would have a decently stocked apothecary to work from in the future.

The evening hours saw Sam and Dean together across the table from Caesar, Lake and Maurice. Between the five of them, they had hammered out some basic trade agreements and a good place to set up a trading post. The Winchesters agreed to keep the exact location of the ape colony away from the rest of their human population. Even they agreed that humans would deal best with the apes in small doses. And Sam promised to be careful who they would send if the brothers couldn't come.

Dean even suggested sending his werewolf friend Garth to the apes to be included in the trade circle. The werewolves, apparently, had a colony of their own down south. Garth's pack kept cattle as an alternative food source to human hearts. They dried and traded the rest of the cow. Caesar didn't need beef or leather as much as he was interested in another group that wasn't human. Though he worried about Wolves among the apes, Dean mockingly told him, "Don't be racist. Garth is good people." There was mocking, but there was also truth.

Sam had promised to send medical textbooks and supernatural lore books along with Garth.

The really were good men, Caesar mused.

"This human colony of yours, you that said you welcome anyone?" Caesar asked, late on their last night.

"Anyone willing to live within our laws," Sam agreed. "If they aren't, they are given a week to rest, all the supplies they can carry, and then we send them on their way."

"From now on, you should close your borders," Caesar told them. "The Simian Flu has mutated. Now, it doesn't kill humans. It destroys their minds, reduces them down to the intelligence of animals. They forget how to speak, how to think. The only way to stop it is to burn everything they have touched. The virus stays alive for days outside of the victim and acts on the victim within hours."

"Dammit," Dean growled. "The hits just keep on coming."

"No, its okay." Sam placed a calming hand on his brother. "As long as we know it could be a problem, we can set up a quarantine zone for everyone new coming in and anyone who goes out when they get back. Thanks for telling us, Caesar."

….

Today was the day the Winchesters went home.

Caesar realized he would miss their company.


End file.
